Unspoken Words
by Deana-Samantha
Summary: AU. Dean thinks Sam doesn't care. Sam is in the hands of the enemy. John is left with a massive mess. What happens next? Outnumbered, injured, suicidal and lost the Winchesters are in for one hell of a ride. Preseries.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Every time we two roads part we have to take one, but somewhere, outside our universe, someone will take another. What if Sam and Dean hadn't made the choices they have? What if they listened and cared just a little too much. Would they have made it to be where they are today?

**Samantha**: There are many other universes out there, what if in one, Sam and Dean didn't make it through their tough child hood? What if...

**Deana:** Shut up Sammy, it's clear I made it through, I'm sitting right here...

**Samantha:** Shut up Dean, I'm trying to draw the readers in and make our dull little world sound interesting.

**Deana**: Shut up SAMMY, we don't need to sound interesting, we are...right? Read this if we are. Where's everyone going?

**Samantha**: Just be quiet Dean you're not helping. Just read it and ignore anything my freak of a sister says. Read and review guys.

**Deana**: I'll have you know this freak of a sister helped write this! But as she said...READ AND REVIEW...how many times do we need to tell you people?

**Samantha**: We'd just like warn anyone squeamish out there that this sad little tale of ours MIGHT contain a bit of **SELF ABUSE AND TORTURE**.

**Deana**: MIGHT? A BIT? Get real Sammy, its not self abuse, I thought I was helping you...and that messed up chick really flaming hurt you...-trails off into incoherent raging-

**Samantha**: -puts arm around and steers away gently- ok Dean, lets just let the audience find out for them selves

**Deana**: -spluttering- when I find her I'm going to...-viciously strangling the air-

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own it, never have, never will.

**Unspoken Words  
**  
CHAPTER 1: My Fault

"I hate you Dean!" The teen shrieked as he threw himself out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Hey!" The older boy called, jumping out and glaring at his brother over the roof of his beloved car,  
"You should be swearing your undying loyalty as my eternal servant...forever; I just saved your pretty little head from getting beaten in." Blazing green eyes met brown ones dark with anger over the roof of the spotless '67 Chevy Impala.

The younger boy let out a derisive laugh "That doesn't even make sense man, besides; I was fine on my own. I don't always need rescuing you know. Sometimes I just wish I could forget this...screwed up family and be normal." the youngest boy turned away and ran into the house, not allowing the elder to see his tears of shame and fear in his green eyes.

At this the eldest sunk to the ground, leaning against his car.

Dean didn't know how long he sat there before he heard rustling above him. Looking up he saw a bird sitting on his car.

"What're you looking at?" his loud voice shattered the silence and the startled crow flew off into the early morning light. He sank to his knees again, not daring to look up at the apartment windows.

Sam's right, he thought to himself, barely focusing on anything, I am just part of a screwed family. I'm the reason he keeps getting hurt. It's all my fault.

Dean stood on trembling legs, his tears of betrayal rolling down pale cheeks. "Sorry Sammy." He whispered as he opened the car door and pulled a knife sharply out from under the driver's seat.

Closing his eyes he turned to the hotel, not really seeing it. He let his knees collapse him to the ground. He sat for a while, staring blankly at the moonlight reflecting off the blade. Raising the knife he let it pass to his left wrist.

The feel of cold steel against his skin was welcomed for a moment, before the pain started. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, it wasn't anything like being hurt in a hunt, hurting yourself, it was possible to make it stop. It was hard to force himself to keep going as he allowed a small gasp of pain to pass his lips, then he shut them tight, denying the pain.

This way Sam would be safe, he reminded himself. This way he could live a normal life, without a screwed up family, become the big shot Dean always knew he would be. Dean felt tears in his eyes that he wouldn't be there to see it.

Wouldn't see Sam graduate, wouldn't clap him on the back at his graduation, wouldn't see any of his nieces and nephews.

Dean ran a pale finger of the cut on his arm and looked wonderingly at the dark blood on his finger tip, before seizing the knife in the other hand and bringing it drown toward his right arm before he could change his mind. Finally, with a twinge of pain, he was going to see his mum.

Finally he was giving Sammy the life he wanted. Sinking into the pain Dean thought this wasn't so bad, he could live with this. Hah, he could almost laugh at the irony, but now the darkness was coming. Not just the darkness of the night but the darkness of the hunt, the darkness where the monsters hid.

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**Deana: **Hope you liked that, we based it on a role play we did over the net. Anyways, please review and tell us if it's worth continuing.

**Samantha: **Yeah, what she says. We have it all planned out….kinda.

**Deana: **KINDA? You mean we don't know?

**Samantha: **Just read and review people. _Puppy dog eyes. _ Please?


	2. Chapter 2

**Deana**: ok, let's just skip Sammy's little reel and get right down to it. Basically, this is another universe. Sam and Dean are 14 and 16 respectively and this is an alternate version of their childhood. One fraught with such risk, who's to say they survived it here?

**Samantha**: Honestly Dean and you complain about me sounding mystic. There aren't really any warnings for this chapter...except for the cliff-hanger end.

**Deana**: Yeah, and you can blame her for that, I had nothing to do with it.

**Samantha**: You could have stopped me. Also, we didn't do this last time so this goes for the whole story, and probably all our stories: We do not own anything to do with Supernatural or anything in this fic that you recognise.

**Deana**: Except for Sarah, Jessica and their parents...or what's left of them

**Samantha**: DEAN, stop spoiling it -sigh- this is becoming a bit of a habit -leads giggling Deana away-

**Unspoken Words** by Samantha (with a little editing from Deana)

CHAPTER 2: And Then It Hit Him

Sam lay on his bed and watched the reflected moonlight play on the dark ceiling. He listened in the darkness, tears long dried on his cheeks. He shouldn't have said that to Dean, he was only trying to help.

Yeah right. The darker voice at the back of his mind laughed. If he really wanted to help you he'd let you go, he'd realize you didn't want to do this anymore.

Sam felt torn apart, he shouldn't have said that to his brother, it was horrible and unfair, but at the same time it was how he felt, at least some of the time. Was it wrong to tell the truth when you knew it would hurt people? People, Sam remembered guiltily, who where just trying to help.

He sighed and rolled over, peering at the clock. The luminous figures read 4:55. Great, just great, he wasn't even going to get any sleep before school. Sam started guiltily. It was Monday. He had history on Monday. And, unless the spirit which had kept them busy all weekend remembered and happened to have written down in its entire lifetime before they killed it, Sam hadn't done his history project. Whoops.

With a groan the fourteen year old dragged himself out of bed and over to the window, sleepily dragging in massive lungful of fresh air.

He stared muzzily down at the car park in time to see someone, or more likely, some thing, open the door to his brothers car.

"Dean." Sam hissed, turning away from the fresh air billowing through the window, suddenly wide awake "Dean!" he tried again crossing the dark room to his brothers rumpled, but empty bed.

Sam stared in puzzlement for a moment and then realized he hadn't heard his brother come in. With a grimace he remembered the horrible things he'd said to Dean. He might have forgotten them, but Dean probably hadn't.

He returned to the window. The figure was nowhere in sight and Sam wondered if it had been Dean. He sighed and turned away from the window again, flicking on the light as he went, might as well get started, if he got away early enough maybe he could finish at school.

He felt a breeze behind him and turned back toward the window. He blinked, something was weird. Then he realized that the moonlight in which he had stood was no longer on the sill. Strange. He walked slowly back over and, disregarding all of his training and his Father's constant warnings, stuck his head out over the sill and into the night.

"Hmmmmmmm." he peered up and down the length of the building and was about to pull his so recently saved head inside when it hit him. Extremely hard, and painfully.

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Samantha: Yep, we're back again, I think it's safe to assume that anyone who has actually bothered to read this far into the story knows what it's about by now. Nope, we don't own them. And Deana? -Looks nervously at Deana running around behind her chasing unseen butterflies- she's ok, just a little stressed right now. If you'll excuse me...-runs after Deana- Deana? Deana, put the knife DOWN.

Deana: Reviews make me happy –delirious laughter- REVIEWS! Ahhhaaaaa haaa haaa haaa


	3. Chapter 3

**Samantha: **I'm sorry it took so long to update…SOMEONE –glares at Deana- Was taking her time in updating things.

**Deana: **I was being attacked by flying leeches!

**Samantha: **Enjoy! And please Review…

CHAPTER THREE: Who or What?

Sam sat up and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Ow, what the hell happened?" He peered around the room where he appeared to be, hand unconsciously racing to his blood covered side. He pulled his hand away and looked in disbelief at the sticky substance coating it.

"Oh! You're awake!" the voice was girly and childish. Sam jumped to his feet and stared around the cavernous room, immediately falling into an expert, defensive stance.

"Your Father trained you well," the voice chattered "even if you didn't want to learn."  
"What are you? And where am I?" Sam's voice was loud in the enclosed space and he wondered if he was underground, it was certainly quite dark.

"What am I? Sammy I'm offended. I'm not a what, I'm a who. My name's Sarah, and I'm amazed you can't see me yet. I'm behind you." Sam spun. A small girl sat in the chair, dwarfed by its magnificence. Sam felt blood rush to his face, knowing he should have seen her earlier.

"Oh don't blame yourself Sammy." the girl smiled. It was almost as if she could read his thoughts...

"But I can!" the girl pouted, and Sam swallowed, this was not good, he was here, wherever here was, with no weapons and up against something that could anticipate his moves before he even really thought of them. Great.

"You're not here to fight me Sammy," the girl leaned closer, her pale face thrust right up against Sam's "I don't want to have to hurt you." the innocence in her voice was somewhat countered by the menace of this comment. Sam decided not to question it, for the moment.

"I really do wish you'd stop thinking of me as a thing Sammy, it really hurts my feelings." the voice was almost insultingly sad. Sam swallowed a sharp retort and glared up at the girl in the chair.

"Ok, if you're not going to hurt me, why am I here?" the girl giggled and clapped her hands in delight.

"Oh I didn't say that Sammy, I didn't say that at all."

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**Samantha**: Yeah, sorry about that, Deana was way out of it, and I have a thing for cliff-hanger ends...

**Deana**: It runs in the family...if you like cliff-hangers read My Fight Not Yours. Now, where's Mr Butterfly? -Skips off-

**Samantha**: I swear something is wrong with that girl -runs after-


	4. Chapter 4

**Samantha: **I know it's short, so sue me…just read and enjoy and then, REVIEW!

**Deana: **She's just mental coz pain killers do things to your brain.

**Samantha**: Excuse me, who drugged who for TWO DAYS!

**Deana: **-Looks around whistling- I don't know what your talking about….just let them READ AND REWIEW!

**Samantha**: Yeah, then maybe she won't tie me up again…

**Deana**: -Grins evilly-

**CHAPTER FOUR**: Sweet Mother of Mercy

Dean looked up at the hotel in a last salute to Sam feeling he owed his brother that honour. He honestly didn't plan on ever coming back; he wanted to do this quickly, before Sam found him, before Dad came back, before he thought it out properly.

The curtains blew in the back blast as a shadow launched itself from the window, a pale body hanging below it. The gentle splash of blood hitting the pavement snapped Dean from his muddle of emotion.

"Sam!" Dean screamed, struggling up, supporting himself on the car. "Sam, no." he muttered, staggering along, resting briefly at every solid surface before staggering on towards the disappearing speck. His wrists burning in agony, he cursed himself for not noticing the figure before.

He got about a mile along the motel before he collapsed, staring up at the shadow with its bloody burden disappearing into the pale back light of the moon. Had he breath in his body Dean would have screamed, but he was breathless and held no room for terror as he curled in on himself, his beloved younger brothers words echoing in his head.

"I don't always need rescuing you know" he was right, he'd be fine. Dean tried to tell himself that as he lay at the edge of the hotel gardens, his blood pooling on the neatly raked gravel beneath him.

"Dean? DEAN!" the headlights of the truck picked out the young man lying on his side. His clothes stained dark and his face pale.

Dean tried to raise his head and found it was hard to move.

"Dad?" he whispered, peering through the glare of the headlights at the shadowy figure approaching. "Sir, I lost Sammy, I'm sorry, he just...it just...he said." Delirium set in and he wondered briefly if he was even talking to his father, this thought was accompanied by fleeting terror that his father would find the streaming wrists or anger over the incident.

"Don't worry Dean," the man said, hauling his eldest son into his arms and turning toward the hotel "I have no doubt that this is as much Sam's fault as your's." John struggled up the stairs, the body in his arms limp and silent.

He entered the room, knowing they would have to be gone by morning. He carefully placed Dean on the bed before gathering everything they possessed and carting it quietly down to his truck. Before taking the keys for Dean's precious baby and driving her to a suitable hiding spot outside town.

From there he walked back to the hotel, fretting all the way. As he entered the room he glanced over at his unconscious son, wondering briefly what had happened. He noticed Dean's pale face and the blood blossoming from his wrists.

"Sweet mother of mercy Dean, what'd you do?" the figure stirred gently, as though it was too great a task to return to the world. John moved forwards, cradling his son's head in his cold hands. He silently cursed himself for leaving the boys alone as he set about the unpleasant task of bandaging the bloody wrists.

OoOoOoOoO

In another cave, lay another body; it shuddered gently at the soft touch of a pale figure dressed all in black.

"Sleep, sleep now Samuel, soon it will be time, soon they will come to suffer your pain by your side." the figure threw back its head and laughed, a much more sinister laugh than that of the identical child who had greeted him hours before.

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**Samantha**: ok, so that chapter might not make a lot of sense but all will be explained...eventually -shakes off Deana- and I'm FINE, I'm not sick no matter what you say

**Deana**: yeah...you're fine...is that why you almost fainted? Or was it why you couldn't walk in a straight line?

**Samantha**: I could to, I walked all the way from the design block, and I didn't almost faint, I was just...dizzy

**Deana**: Yup, right, and I'm good maths  
**  
Samantha:** I'm alright -swaying- and you are good at maths

**Deana**: -Sighing- Here we go again -picks up and puts on bed- Sleep! -Hides Math grade- And you -points to readers- review –visibly brightens- please!


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE:**

**Samantha**: wow, evil little me –innocent face-

**Deana**: you try so hard and it just doesn't work for me...

**Samantha**: shut up Dean, you've seen me in tears, seen me swaying, seen me hiding from horror movies, you're not going to think I'm evil -smiles at audience but they might

**Deana**: rolls eyes ok then...maybe they should review...

**Samantha**: that would be good -nods-

**Deana**: so, let them read it Sammy...

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"Sammy! Sammy, I'm so sorry. I never meant to...Just a burden...SAMMY!" Dean shot upright into more darkness and clung to the sheets, which were his only connection to the real world.

"Sammy? SAM?" his voice quavered and he felt the warmth of tears on his cheeks. He tried to think what had happened.

Ouch, painful, bad idea. Instead he directed his attention into discerning anything from the rapidly becoming claustrophobic darkness.

"Sam?" his voice was barely a whisper in the complete enfolding darkness. But he knew his brother was not there, if he were he would have been at Dean's side the moment he cried out.

Dean reflexively shut his eyes as the light came on. Shielding the delicate irises with one arm he peered at the figure in the doorway,

"Dad?"

His father was at his side in an instant, helping him lie back down. But even as Dean gave in to the strong hands he shivered. This was wrong, this was Sammy's job, it was always Sam who was there, whether Dean was sick, asleep or hurt, it was always Sam who made it all better, who told him it would be ok.

"Take it easy son." John's rough voice broke into Dean's train of thought.

"Dad?" Dean said again, "Where's Sam?"

"Dean..." John began in a conciliatory tone of voice, but his eighteen-year-old son cut him off.

"Don't bother with the 'it's going to be alright son' crap you were never very good at it any way." Dean shook his head disparagingly, almost as if scolding his father for this lack "I want to know why Sam isn't here and where the hell he is." Dean realised a little belatedly that his questions meant almost the same thing and that he had just scolded his father. He shrunk back into his sheets,

"Sir." he added, hoping it would undo some of the damage his harsh words and harsher tone had done.

John sighed, he hated seeing the scared look in either of his son's eyes but angering a hero was a hard thing.

"He's all right Dean, and as soon as you're better from your little escapade," John said, staring meaningfully at Dean's bandaged and bloody wrists "we can go find him." he finished, carefully patting his pocket.

Dean stared curiously but decided to push his luck in this game of tag with his fathers temper no further. Instead he lay back on the mattress, assuming that if John said Sammy was safe that he had just gone to stay with friends to cool off for a few days.

In his exhausted rest Dean never noticed the way his father looked carefully at him, or the steady flashing light of the small metallic in his hands.

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**Samantha:** that's all folks

**Deana**: great...Sammy worked hard on this so review

**Samantha**: Dean works hard too, review for her as well, and, just in case u didn't find this after reading my fight not yours, you should go read it, it's brilliant

**Deana**: well duh, I wrote it...review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Samantha**: -looking sheepish- ok, I know I haven't updated in awhile...

**Deana**: And I haven't been on her back about it cuz I've had better things to do…

**Samantha: **and it's not like any of you have been reviewing…

**Deana**: Not reviewing? Some people don't get any reviews!

**Samantha: **exactly, so review them and review me and review yourself and everyone will be happy

**CHAPTER SIX**

The first thing to register in Sam's mind was the fact that his shirt was sticky, the grey material tacked to his side by his own drying blood. He could smell the coppery substance before his brain was even functioning properly.

"That can't be good." he thought vaguely, staggering to his feet. His mind felt like it was full of pink cotton wool and he was unsure what to do now he had conquered the challenge of reaching his full height. He looked around for a new goal to achieve. His eyes slowly adjusting to the ever dimming light.

He regretted the swift head movement, or rather attempt at swift head movement as he stumbled back, falling against the carved stone table, which, until now, had held his entire weight flat upon its sticky blood stained surface. Sam bent down and ran his slightly shaking fingers along the cold stone surface bringing them close to his eyes he realised what the substance was. He didn't scream or jerk the fingers away; in fact there was no movement from his still body for quite some time bar a barely perceived increase in the shaking. Then his head turned as voices approached the stone room where he stood. He wiped his finger along his shirt, figuring it was so drenched in blood that it would make no difference in the state of the garment. He looked around, more cautiously this time, wary of his throbbing head, for a place to hide from whoever was approaching.

It wasn't likely to be someone wanting to help him and if it was he could easily come out once he had ascertained that they posed no threat, he grimaced as his side protested his movement behind the table, make that further threat, to his wellbeing.

He crouched carefully in the dark corner of the cave behind the blood covered stone table, unable to make his way any further from the lighted entrance in the time available to him at the speed he could reach without causing himself further injury. More voices reached him from outside, clearer though they were still murmuring as if to avoid disturbing some one.

"And you will be nice to him Mother, Father, he's a very sweet young gentleman, and when I'm done with him, if you're very good, you can have him to play with."

Sam knew, with a convulsive shiver up his spine, that they were talking about him. Shrinking further back into his corner he prayed they would not come in. The light turned into the room. You'd think god would like him, after all the demons he'd helped banish. Guess not.

Sam jumped as a hideously disfigured face leered down at him out of the darkness; the decaying mouth moved in soundless pleasure as it reached in one skeletal hand and grabbed him by the back of his blood soaked shirt, ripping it from its congealed moorings at his side.

The figure held him at arms length as if to avoid catching some horrible disease. Sam opened his mouth to make some Dean-style smart remark but the look in the hollow eyes of the figure suggested that this would not be well received.

"Sam," the look in the young girl's eyes was hurt and shocked, underlaid with malice "you wouldn't be going anywhere...would you?"

Sam glared at her and managed to spit some blood in her general direction but keeping his head up and his eyes open was becoming harder and harder.

"Samuel, that's not very polite!" The girl re-iterated, her voice changing, becoming more melodic and her body extending, becoming more willowy.  
Her black robe extended with her body, becoming a lovely black evening dress and cape.

"Mother, Father, I'd like you to meet Sam, he's a very sweet young man, he's just behaving badly at the moment. He is also the son and bait for a man you might remember quite well, a certain John Winchester." At this statement the figure holding Sam and a skeletal, rotting woman standing behind the newly formed young woman began to wave their arms around violently, dropping him.

The last thing Sam heard as he sank into unconsciousness was the girl's voice shouting in some indistinguishable language. His last thought was that he really hoped Dean would come and get him soon. Really soon.

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**Samantha: **So it's short…

**Deana**: Hey guys, please review for Sammy we all know u want to.

**Samantha**: -smiles and hugs Deana- please guys? I want to know what you think I could improve or just what you think of my story

**Deana**: That and if you don't she's gonna complain to me…

**Samantha**: lots and lots, then Dean might just go crazy and not be able to finish her stories...

**Deana**: Oh dear…quick review!


	7. Chapter 7

Please review or I am going to delete this story.

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Dean sat up screaming, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to remember what his dream had been about. Something bad, something huge and bad and scary, a word, a name on his lips he almost called into the grey lit room before he bit it back. Searching his mind for it Dean lost it in the fear, rapidly decreasing, shrinking, hiding away in the light of the early morning sun.

Cursing himself for losing the name Dean dragged himself out of bed and into the shower. Hot water pounding his forehead cleaned the nightmares mark from his body but did nothing to clear its smokey haze from his mind. Knowing he would regret it, but knowing it was the only thing that would ever get him going he quickly switched the tap to the other side. The icy water hit his back and head and Dean almost screamed, his control was good, he decided as he bit his lips together and climbed shivering out onto the floor, wrapping a towel around himself.

He glanced up at the mirror and froze, the towel dropped from his hands as he stared down at the white bandages encasing his wrists.

What was this? He thought back, carefully wading through the fog in his mind. The torrent of cold water had done something to drive it back, but clearly not far enough. He was hiding something from everyone, including himself, he wasn't sure what, but he was going to find out.

Slowly it came back, as he pulled on his jeans and rumpled Metallica shirt.

Sam: gone, missing, at a friends. Dean: angry, scared, catching Sam. Then...

"I hate you Dean!" The teen shrieked as he threw himself out the door, slamming it behind him.

Sammy had said he hated him and Dean, Dean had hurt. Dean remembered sitting in the car park, his baby at his back, the knife, so beautiful. It had seemed so easy, so simple, just two little movements. Then he remembered only blood and pain. Something hurting Sam, the look of terror on Sam's face, the look that said: I need you.

His father, Sam. Something had Sam and Dean had to get him back.

With no more thought in his mind than this Dean burst out of the room, hair still damp and tousled, ready to take on the entirety of the spirit world to get his brother back.

And ran straight into the food laden arms of his father.

"Whoa champ, where're you going so early in the morning, you don't usually stir until noon, and with that wound..." John's voice trailed off as he pushed his son into a chair.

"Dad...Sam...Something has Sam!" Dean struggled against his father in a desperate bid for the door.

"Dean, it's ok, Samuel will be fine...well, fine until we catch up with him." John's expression darkened and Dean lashed out again.

"No, you don't understand. He didn't just leave again, he was taken something took him!"

"Dean, it's FINE!" John's voice thundered throughout the room, and Dean fell still against the chair, exhausted for the moment.

"Dean, I know something took Sam, it's just a small ghost that's been haunting the area for about a century, she takes unhappy people, sick kid, anyway, Sam will be fine until we get there, which should only take a few hours." John concluded and stood back, looking down at his son as if that explained everything.

"I don't get it, get where?"

John put his hand in one of his many pockets and after a moment came up with a small metal tablet engraved with golden symbols

"Tracking device, it pulls you toward whomever the person is, this one's connected to Sam."

Dean blinked at the small seemingly rather touristy object for a moment,

"Then what're we waiting for! Let's go!" he grabbed his own and Sam's bags, throwing them into his car before climbing in behind the wheel and taking off down the road with his father's truck in hot pursuit.

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Ok guys, heres the deal, you guys say whether you want this updated ever again or I delete it.

I am feeling concerned that next to no one has been reviewing and I don't think this story is worth being here. If you guys want it here you need to tell me so.

But thank you to the two people who did review, Eliza and Double Vision, thanks guys, hope you enjoy

Sam


	8. Chapter 8

**Samantha: **Ok, so life has been a little hectic lately.

**Deana: **Are you kidding me? Hectic? You're on freaking _holidays!_

**Samantha: **I've been on holidays for only three days, unless you count Friday.

**Deana: **Whatever helps you sleep better at night!

**Samantha: B**ut not everyone can write wonderful stories, mine just take a little longer...ok, nope, can't say that with a straight face, I'm lazy.

**Deana: **Damn right you are, you guys should see the spelling before it goes through me…and sadly I think occasionally I miss things.

**Samantha: **just because I suck at spelling...-glares- just read the story, I would quite like to talk to my sister -force smile-

**CHAPTER 8:**

Sam crawled along the corridor, his dry skin flaking as he dragged it along the stones. He had thought himself strong, had thought he could withstand anything.

It was so easy to think that when he was safe with Dean promising no harm would come to him.

Tears came to his eyes as they no longer did for physical pain. Hours had passed and still he held strong, nothing would break him while Dean was coming.

Then they seemed to lose interest, he was thrown into a small, bare stone room and they left. He hadn't seen or heard a thing of the girl, Sarah, or Jessica, in her older form. But the parents would pass by the door on occasion, fleshless faces pressed against the bars as eye-less sockets stared and bony mouths hung open.

Sam lived those hours in fear, fearing the girl would return to him, or, perhaps more so, that her uses for him had been exhausted and he would soon become the parents plaything. A living prey in a horrible game of cat and mouse.

As he watched the sun set he knew, knew he could not stay any longer, knew he could wait no longer for Dean. For all he knew Dean could be dead, lying in the car park stone cold with his back against his beloved car...dead from wounds Sam had as good as caused.

He shook his head, Dean wasn't dead, he couldn't be, wasn't lying there, Dean was a hunter not prey and he was also a survivor, he would survive. And so would Sam, Sam would survive, if only to know that Dean was alright, to tell him that he hadn't meant any of it, and that he loved him and he was the best big brother Sam could or would ever have.

The night was coming and Sam was becoming more and more nervous. The girl still hadn't appeared and the insistent clicking of the parents footsteps was becoming more urgent.

Sam needed to get out and he needed to get out soon. Preferably before he became living zombie bait.

Silence descended on the room as the footsteps echoed away down the corridor. A creak interrupted the unheard still as the hefty oak door swung open. Sam stood slowly on unwilling legs and trembled his way to the door.

"Hello? Sarah? Jessica?" His voice echoed through the cave, interrupted only by the occasional drip of water. Ok, this wasn't good; his uses had obviously run out. She wasn't that stupid, she knew who his family was; she knew a lot more than that, and in telling Sam that she had given away more than she wanted to, or perhaps only what she wanted to.

She was very clever, too clever to let Sam live, she had told him all in an attempt to frighten him, now that it hadn't he had no more use. He still didn't know his part in things but for now it seemed it was over, though what fiendish uses other than zombie food his body might be put to he didn't wish to consider.

He stood carefully holding his side; obviously the cavalry was a little late in its arrival.

"Come on Dean, where are you?" Sam tried to sit again and found that his side was stiffening up a little, and getting very painful to move. The footsteps outside the door faded and Sam looked up, surprised by the sudden lack of sound. The eerie silence was broken by the theatrical creaking of rusty hinges.

"Having water in caves mixed with metal hinges is not a good idea." He decided as he hobbled towards the door.

"If I'm going to die anyway I might as well die in a heroic bid to escape." His voice broke the monotony of drops from the roof.

"Run Sammy, you're brother's coming, I wonder if he'll be fast enough?" The creepy voice of Jessica, the older sister of Sarah who had spent the previous hour trying to figure out how much he would bleed, echoed through the passages.

Sam ignored the taunting tone and continued hobbling through the creepily silent corridors towards the quickly lessening light.

---TBC---

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